By Susan Bromley

Staff Writer

(Editor’s note: Part one of a two-part story)

Brandon Twp.- Bob and Judy McReavy are afraid to die.

The township residents, married 51 years and the parents of two sons, fear what will become of their mentally ill eldest child after they are gone, with continuing state cuts to the mental health system.

“They told us to make him stand on his own as much as you can because he needs to be independent, but here we are 30 years later taking care of him,” said Judy. “At 75, if I have 10 more years, it will be good, but what will happen to my son when I am no longer here?”

She then answers her own question, frustration evident with Gov. Rick Snyder and state legislators who are considering privatization of mental health.

“When I am no longer here, he will be on the street, because that is where he would be today if I was not here. They have shown me what will happen to my son. This is all due to cuts in mental health funding from state of Michigan. I have no understanding how they can be so unknind and uncaring to people who are so vulnerable and not able to take care of themselves.”

A hole in the public safety net of the mental health system in Michigan has been growing almost since the McReavys’ son entered it 30 years ago. Since 1981, the state has closed more than two dozen mental institutions, two-thirds since 1990. Several were closed during the administration of former Gov. John Engler in the 1990s, during which time, according to the Michigan Psychiatry Society, a major revision of the mental health code was accomplished by Public Act 290 of 1995. The act further “decentralized responsibility for the system to county-based community mental health service agencies, which were then allowed to convert to authority status and encouraged to consolidate.

That hole has widened with mentally ill persons increasingly falling through and threatens to dump their son into a gaping chasm from which he will not be able to climb if proper funding is not restored.

The McReavys hope citizens will voice their opposition to what they say are Lansing efforts to shift Medicaid funding for mental health services to private HMOs and express their support for sufficient funding for improved services at a mental health town hall meeting planned for 7 p.m., Sept. 22, at Beaumont Hospital Administration Auditorium, 3601 13 Mile Road, Royal Oak.

The journey that the McReavys have been on has been long, with many ups and downs since their son John (not his real name) was an adolescent. Judy explains they thought they had the worst teenager that ever lived— one that stayed up all night and slept all day, isolating himself from the rest of the family, ignoring all rules and regulations, becoming increasingly out of control.

It was only when he turned violent, in an incident where he appeared ready to assault his parents and brother, that they realized they had more than just a rebellious teenager.

John was ultimately diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, a severe chronic mental disorder in which sufferers experience hallucinations, delusions, and extremely disordered thinking and behavior. He also has bipolar disorder, which causes extreme mood swings.

The McReavys initially sought help for their son from a family counselor, who told them John had deeper trouble than he was qualified to handle. After a diagnosis and 35-day commitment at the Havenwyck Hospital, a licensed psychiatric facility, he was released. Medical insurance that Bob received as a Chrysler employee would cover no longer than a 35-day stay. And the roller coaster ride began. Their son would have to be out of the hospital for 60 days before he could return for the insurance to cover it. He ultimately ended up in the Clinton Valley state hospital for three years.

“The state hospitals at the time were not where you want to have somebody, but we had no choice,” said Bob. “He was completely out of control, did not understand anything happening to him, we didn’t understand either.”

“They saved his life by giving him time to stabilize and the meds that he needed,” said Judy.

When he was discharged he was enrolled in Social Security disability and was given other supports he would need to survive. He then entered a group home in Macomb County, and was there for two years, before entering a shared apartment program for another two years. He then lived independently with a girlfriend who also suffered from mental illness for several years.

Programs offered by the state for the mentally ill taught John and his girlfriend how to live independently with their illnesses, including how to clean, do laundry, cook, and grocery shop. He couldn’t hold a job although he tried many times and finally a doctor told John’s parents that his illness was so severe he couldn’t function in a job. Still, John and his girlfriend did well for almost a decade, said Judy, before they both crashed.

Bob and Judy went to visit the couple and walked into an apartment that had 6 inches of debris littering the floor, including discarded food, coffee cups, and newspapers.

They had no food and the McReavys soon learned that John’s girlfriend had racked up $30,000 in credit card debt.

Bob said both of them had completely decomped, the term used for relapse. Their son was “yelling at the voices, swearing at the voices, it was complete chaos.”

They had their son, for whom they retain guardianship, committed to a psychiatric hospital in Macomb County and prolonged his release since the apartment was deemed unfit for living. He finally returned, ready to start over again, on medications and this time in a pilot program called New Passages under which he and his girlfriend could live independently, but with supports— social workers checking on them up to three times a day, available seven days a week to make sure they were taking their medications and doing what is necessary to not relapse.

“It was a miracle program,” said Judy. “If they saw any sign of decomping, they would pick up the pace. We had a 24/7 emergency number. We witnessed medication changes within a few hours if necessary. This program had a 90 percent success rate. Our son was stable and we had peace in our family.”

It worked for 12 years. Until, they said, the Hope Network took over the Portable Supports Program from New Passages and destroyed the perfect program within a year, destroying their son simultaneously.

Next week: Mental health, part II: Starting over again, mental health advocates and law enforcement weigh in on an ailing system.